


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by MsChievous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, But He Gets Better, Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Killer Bees suck ass, Major Character Injury, Poor Prompto, Promise, Serious Injuries, but potential to ultimately be sweet, confused gladio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Forthiskinkmeme:While characters being confused isn't nearly as devastating in FFXV as in some others (Auron, stop killing the party /cough), I think it's still an interesting status ailment and absolutely suited for some angsty fic.So Gladio gets hit with a confusion spell and knocks out one or more of his friends under the influence. Would love to see the guilty aftermath (and possibly the guys going off to buy Gladio a Rainbow Pendant because damn, dude).Gen is perfectly fine, but I also wouldn't mind some OT4, Gladio/Prompto or Ignis/Noct in the background. Not the biggest fan of Prompto/Noct or Gladio/Ignis but if it fits the story, who am I to complain.(If you want you can always switch the character affected, Gladio is just one of the hardest hitters in the party.)---While fighting a swarm of killer bees, Gladio gets caught in a greenish cloud, and, when he gets out, he starts attacking Prompto.





	Hit Me With Your Best Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Ehhhh, didn't mean to post this until later but I'm actually making good progress on my next fic, so I'm excited to get that done~
> 
> Hope u enjoy the angst! <3

Prompto  _ hates _ bugs. With a burning, fiery passion. They’re creepy, crawly, and scare the shit out of him. That’s the main reason he complains about camping: no matter how careful they are, there’s usually a bug or two that manages to sneak in for the night. This usually ends up with Prompto making a mad dash out of the tent and trying not to scream. Most times, he succeeds.

Most times.

However,  _ Noctis _ , in his  _ infinite wisdom _ , decided to take on a hunt where they had to kill bees half their size. Prompto had tried to reason with him, but Noctis was dead-set on getting the caravan for the night, so of course, Prompto was right by his side.

“Look out!” Prompto ducks out of the way as one of the  _ giant fucking bees _ shakes its thorax and dispels a greenish cloud. He manages to get out of the way and take it down with a single shot, but Gladio isn’t so lucky: he takes the entire cloud to the face.

Prompto watches in horror as the shield buckles to the ground, coughing madly. Working quickly, he fires off three more shots, taking out two more killer bees encroaching on Gladio’s prone form. Then, he’s by Gladio’s side, helping him to his feet and pressing an antidote into his hands. 

“C’mon, big guy,” Prompto huffs and puffs under Gladio’s weight, but somehow, they’re both standing straight up now, and Gladio moves to take his own weight. He looks a little dazed, but that should pass as the last of the poison is purged from his body. Prompto sighs in relief and moves to take out a bee attempting to flank them. It goes down quickly, legs twitching in its death throes. 

He hears the sound of Gladio behind him, growling in anger. He’s close, it sounds like, too close. Prompto’s turning to see what the matter is when something hammers into his chest, sharp and painful.

He’s blown back, and, distantly, he can hear Noctis calling his name. Fuzz clogs up his brain, making it hard to think. Why is it so hard to think? Why is it so hard to  _ breathe? _ He looks down at his chest, where the pain is most intense, but all he can see is a blurry red. Red… red, like blood. Is that  _ his _ ? Why is he bleeding, why-

His thoughts are cut off when he hears Gladio’s angry bellow, Noctis shouting angrily. They’re in trouble, they need his help he has to get up, has to help them. He starts to turn on his side, but a fiery pain arcs though his torso and down to his toes and he can’t suppress a primal scream of pain. 

This is bad.

This is  _ really _ bad.

The pain has never been this bad before.

Something is wrong.

All at once, he realizes he might actually be dying. His hands and feet feel like ice, the blood flowing from his chest like fire. He manages a stuttering breath, then croaks out, “Noct…”

There’s nothing but more screams from Noct, and even Ignis’ sharp voice. He needs to be louder, to tell Noctis he’s sorry, that he wished he could have been a better friend, that he treasured every moment the two of them spent together. 

So he takes in a deeper breath. Or at least tries. The pain is a band around his chest, and once he gets past a certain point, it erupts in an explosion of agony.

He thinks he’s screaming, but he’s really not sure. Everything’s cold and fuzzy, out of focus. He tries to latch onto consciousness, to keep awake so that he can get help. But his body had other ideas. 

His ears are ringing now, he can’t hear Noctis or Gladio or Ignis or the bees anymore. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, he can’t feel his arms or his legs, everything is numb yet painful.

Is this what dying felt like?

As his body floats down to unconsciousness or death, he barely has the consciousness to think, “I’m so sorry, Noct.”

* * *

Noctis’ heart clenches when he hears Prompto’s shout. It’s cut-off, sounds like he’s half-choking on the air, and it drives Noctis to finish off his last two bees with a swing of the Axe of the Conqueror, calling his best friend’s name. He warps back, trusting Gladio and Ignis to finish of the rest.

He stops in his tracks when he sees Gladio stalking towards Prompto, sword covered, not with the greenish goo of killer bee guts, but a swath of bright red  _ human _ blood, the same kind of blood flowing from the large slash on the blond’s chest.

In a rage, Noctis warps forward, planting himself between Prompto and Gladio. “What the  _ fuck _ , Gladio? Wh-” Noctis has to dodge to the side to avoid Gladio’s swing. It’s slow and weak, a wild slash. Not at all how Gladio usually operates. Noctis gets a better look and notices his eyes are dazed and vacant.

“Gladio, wake  _ up _ !” He shouts, parrying another weak blow. The last thing he wants is to hurt Gladio, but Prompto is also injured and needs help. Noctis goes on the offensive, being careful not to hit Gladio, only force him to move back. Even still, Gladio isn’t moving as usual, and Noctis accidentally scores more than a few hits.

Noctis starts to lunge in to disarm his shield, but suddenly, Ignis appears and with a few well placed daggers, forces the pair to separate. “What in the name-” Ignis starts shrilly, looking from Noctis to Gladio, but Noctis warps forward, cutting him off.

“Something’s wrong with Gladio!” He shouts, hooking a foot around Gladio’s ankle from behind and bracing a hand on the shield’s chest. With a surge of strength, he jerks his leg forward and throws his arm back. 

Gladio’s too strong for that to drop him to the ground entirely, but it’s certainly enough to get him to lose his balance and it gives Noctis an opening to wrench his shield over his shoulder and down to the ground.

“Iggy, he’s confused, do you have the smelling salts?”

Ignis hurries over to Gladio, who’s trying desperately to fling Noctis off. A quick search of the Armiger, and Ignis shoves a slim bottle of smelling salts under the shield’s nose. 

All at once, all of the fight goes out of Gladio, and he relaxes against Noctis’ hold. 

Carefully, Noctis loosens his hold, then drops it entirely as Gladio starts to shift again.

“Ugh…” Gladio groans, rubbing his head with a hand. “The fuck’m I on the ground fer?” He raises himself to his hands and knees, looking around slowly.

Noctis doesn’t even bother to respond, instead, he warps to Prompto’s side. Prompto’s tossed on the ground, limbs splayed and head tipped away, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. There’s so much blood, and Prompto’s so pale and still, Noctis can’t even see his chest move. Cautiously, Noctis kneels beside his friend and shifts his head to try and feel his breathing. 

“IGNIS!” Noctis can feel his heart pounding, and he has to force himself to look away from Prompto’s lifeless eyes. “Iggy, I need a Phoenix Down!”

Noctis drags Prompto onto his lap, brushing the blond hair aside to lock his gaze with Prompto’s. He’s so pale that his freckles look like flecks of ink, splattered across his face and down his shoulders, and it hurts Noctis to see. Prompto’s so cold, and he doesn’t know if the Phoenix Down will even work. 

He doesn’t know what to do if it doesn’t work.

Ignis is beside him in a moment, shifting Prompto around and wrapping the blond’s thin hand around a faintly glowing feather. 

“What-” Gladio is coming closer, and Noctis shifts Prompto so his dead eyes lock with Gladio’s. It’s cruel, almost sadistic, and Gladio’s not really at fault for it, but he  _ wants _ Gladio to hurt, to feel bad.

“Gods, what happened?” Gladio asks, eyes wide. He stops short, looking at the familiar-looking wound on Prompto’s chest, and all the blood drains from his face. “Did I….?”

Ignis forces Prompto to crush the Phoenix Down, and a fiery glow encompasses the blond’s pallid body.

Noctis holds his breath as the ugly slash across Prompto’s body heals, and then, thank all the Astrals above, Prompto takes in a breath, deep and raspy. He coughs once, twice, then inhales again.

His breath slowly returns to normal as his eyes slide open. His eyes are confused, cloudy, and he looks up at Noctis with upturned brows. “Wha…?” He manages to croak, before a series of coughs overcome him and he curls into a ball on his side.

Relief rushes through Noctis, bringing tears to his eyes. “Shhh, Prompto, it’s okay. Take your time, you’re okay….” He brushes his fingers through Prompto’s hair as the blond’s cough slowly fades into shivers. He helps Prompto lay back on his back, then leans down, resting his forehead against Prompto’s. “ _ Gods _ , you’re okay.”

“Shit,  _ fuck _ , Prompto, I-” 

Noctis feels Prompto tense in his arms, and he immediately whirls on Gladio, “Back off!” He snarls, and the look on Gladio’s face sends a primal surge of supremacy flooding his body. In the back of his mind, he knows it’s not really Gladio’s fault, that he was confused and shouldn’t be held accountable for what he did.

But the front of his mind is thinking of Prompto, lying  _ dead _ on the ground, thanks to Gladio. It’s thinking of the hazy rage in Gladio’s eyes as he advanced on Prompto’s  _ dying _ body, and it’s thinking of Prompto, recently revived, trembling in his arms.

“Noct…” Prompto’s voice is scratchy as he lightly pushes Noctis away, “‘s not his fault,” He says, working himself into a sitting position. 

“I-I know,” Noctis lowers his voice, helping Prompto stand. The blond is slightly shaky from shock and blood loss, but when Noctis lets go, he can stand by himself. “I just…” he lets the words hang there, shrugging.

Ignis clears his throat, “Perhaps we should turn in the hunt and get ready for the night.” He suggests.

“Yes, let’s,” Gladio says, turning to the Regalia.

Noctis carefully helps Prompto to his feet. “You sure you’re okay?”

Prompto nods slowly, rubbing his chest where a scar showed through his torn shirt. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pauses for a moment, then gives a thin laugh, “...ish…” he amends. “I’ll be fine soon.”

Noctis helps Prompto into the front seat of the Regalia, taking his spot behind Ignis and trying to keep from glaring at Gladio.  _ Fuck _ , he knows that Gladio’s not to blame, not really, but it was still him that  _ actually killed _ Prompto. 

He won’t forgive his shield for a while.


End file.
